The Wedding
by colorful swirls
Summary: Ron and Hermione's wedding doesn't go exactly the way they'd planned, but they wouldn't have it any other way.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

* * *

**The Wedding**

* * *

She sits in the chair, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She tries to see a piece of her—a piece of _Hermione_ in the beautiful woman she's looking at, but she can't. The woman in the mirror has long, silky brown hair, not even a trace of bushiness visible. She has chocolate-brown eyes that are complimented with smoky eyeshadow; soft, pink, full lips.

The woman in the mirror seems confident, like she could do anything, even get married. On the inside, though, Hermione feels like she's going to throw up. Ginny, Fleur, Luna, Angelina, and Audrey are all seated around her—Fleur braiding her hair, Audrey touching up her make-up, Angelina working on her nails, Luna working on the dress, and Ginny is sitting beside her, holding her hand as they both gaze at the woman in the mirror.

"Hermione," Luna says, "The dress is ready. You can put in on after you're done."

"Thanks," Ginny answers for her, knowing that Hermione couldn't talk to save her life right now. "Luna, would you mind telling Charlie that Mum said she needs help putting out all of the chairs?"

"Of course," Luna replies, and she glides out of the room, seeming to be floating in the sleeveless purple dress all the bridesmaids are wearing.

There are six bridesmaids: Ginny, Fleur, Angelina, Audrey, Luna, and Hannah, accompanied by Harry, Bill, George, Percy, Rolf, and Neville. Ginny was the maid of honor, Harry the best man (he had been the obvious choice).

Fleur twists the braid on top of Hermione's head, making an elaborate bun. "Your hair iz done," she says, with just a trace of her French accent. "I'm going to pick up my bouquet and teach Dom how to be a flower girl."

Hermione nods. "Dom" was Dominique, Bill and Fleur's two-year-old daughter, who Ron and Hermione'd chosen to be the flower girl.

There had been a small amount of eligible girls to choose from for the flower girl: four-year-old Victoire, three-year-old Molly, Dominique, almost two-year-old Roxanne, and one-year-old Lucy. They might've chosen Victoire or Molly, but Dominique had immediately volunteered, and no one could say no to her.

Besides, Victoire had been Harry and Ginny's flower girl recently, and Molly wasn't interested in being a flower girl (neither was Roxy, and Lucy was too little).

There is only one boy in the family to be the ring bearer, however: Teddy Lupin, Harry's godson and the ring bearer of one wedding so far—Harry and Ginny's. Teddy had volunteered to be Hermione and Ron's, too, and they are very happy about this. Teddy is an absolute sweetheart, and the whole Weasley/Potter clan dotes over him.

Angelina and Audrey soon depart, both to check on their respective daughters. Ginny and Hermione sit, looking at the mirror quietly.

After the dress is on, it's all they can do to not gasp. Hermione looks absolutely stunning; beautiful, and she feels as if there never was a bushy-haired, buck-toothed eleven-year-old, even though she's still that girl at heart.

"Hermione," Ginny says quietly, breaking the silence. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing," she replies immediately. Ginny arches an eyebrow, and Hermione sighs.

"It's just—it's just that me and Ron are always last at _everything_. The last to kiss, the last to go out, the last to propose, the last to get married.. and we'll probably be the last to have children! Sometimes I get aggravated, because it feels like Ron doesn't—doesn't _want_ to get married, like he's just doing it to please everyone else. And, Ginny, I—I _love_ him, and I don't want to force him to do something he doesn't want to do—"

"Stop." Ginny's voice is firm, and Hermione stops mid-sentence, taking a deep breath.

"Hermione, Ron loves you. I swear. You'll know that for sure after today—don't worry. Every bride goes through this, but I guess I can see where it's coming from for you. Ron is nervous, because sometimes he thinks that you don't feel the same way for him that he does for you."

Hermione opens her mouth to say something, probably, _how could he think that?_, but Ginny doesn't let her.

"And, Hermione, maybe it doesn't matter, but you and Ron weren't the last. You were the first. The first to fall in love. And that's all that matters."

Hermione smiles a little, and so does the woman in the mirror. "Thanks, Ginny," she says, and hugs her soon-to-be sister-in-law, thinking that maybe she can do this, as long as Ron loves her.

* * *

"Come on, mate," Harry says, a bit desperately. "Don't you want to help your mum put out all the chairs?"

People are arriving, and so far, five had been told to stand in the waiting area while the rest of the chairs were set up. Outdoor weddings were always a bit more complicated, but it was much harder when the groom refused to do anything. Harry wasn't even completely sure Ron would take his place at 4:15, when the wedding was scheduled to start.

"No," Ron answers. "I can't, Harry. I can't be seen—I'll just embarrass myself."

"No, you won't," Harry argues, restraining from rolling his eyes with difficulty. "You'll be fine. Your mum's going ballistic, Ron, she needs all the help she can get."

"So go help her," Ron says, and Harry grits his teeth.

"She wants _your_ help, Ron, because _you're_ the groom, and _you_ know where you want everyone to sit."

"She has a seating chart, doesn't she?" Ron's voice is becoming sarcastic, getting a bit loud.

His best mate sighs. "Yes, she does, Ron, but you might want make a last minute change. Can't you just stop wallowing in self pity and be a man already?"

This makes Ron snap his head up and look at Harry for the first time. "_Self pity_? You think I pity myself because I'm about to marry Hermione? No, Harry, I pity _her_."

"But why?" Harry is fed up with this—Ron is going to get off his arse and get married, or Harry's going to _make_ him. "Ron, she loves you. She wants to marry you, and she's scared that _you_ don't want to marry _her_."

He laughs humorlessly. His best friends have always been this way—doubting each other's feelings—but he had thought they would've gotten past that stage by the wedding.

"She thinks that?" Ron's voice has dropped the bitter edge and is simply confused. "How could _she_ think that?"

"Well, maybe it's because her fiancée is sitting in his room, thinking about things with his head in his hands. It gets a bit annoying, let me tell you." Now Harry's voice is sarcastic, and this, more than anything else, seems to make Ron stand up.

"I'm going to help Mum," Ron says, and then he walks out, Harry behind him, shaking his head.

* * *

"Ow," Ginny pants, her hand on her stomach. She's only a few weeks or so pregnant, but this baby's a fighter. She'd gotten used to occasional kick, but sometimes it's hard to conceal them from her family. Only Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George know, George by accident.

The plan is to tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley while Ron and Hermione are on their honeymoon. Ginny only hopes they can keep it under wraps until then. So far today, the baby has kicked twice, and she's convinced it's a boy. _A boy with untidy black hair_, she thinks, and smiles.

* * *

The side of her mouth quirks upward as she fixes her husband's tie. _Only Neville wouldn't be able to do his own tie_, Hannah thinks.

Her blonde hair is swept to one side and fixed with a pearl barrette, her blue eyes wide and inviting. Neville finds himself staring at her instead of the tie, which he's supposed to be looking at so he can learn how to do it, but she's so captivating he can't help it.

When she's done, she looks up and sees him staring at her. Smirking a little, she steps back and twirls for him. "How do you like the dress?" she asks, a little dizzy, but beaming.

He is momentarily stunned. "It's perfect," he says. "Just like you." She blushes, but waves it off.

"You're much too cheesy for your own good, Mr. Longbottom," she says, a mischievous look in her eyes, just as the music begins playing.

"That's our cue, Mrs. Longbottom," Neville answers, taking her hand. They hurry to their place in line behind George and Angelina but before Percy and Audrey, just as Harry and Ginny, the first couple, begin walking down the aisle made of grass and velvet.

* * *

_Take deep breaths_, she thinks. _In. Out. In. Out._

She's about to walk down the aisle, arm-in-arm with her father. Whenever Luna and Rolf make it down the aisle, it'll be their turn. Suddenly, it seems like her friend and her husband are walking much faster than necessary. Rolf looks like he's pulling Luna down the aisle, and Luna is speed walking to catch up.

And then, all too soon, it's her turn.

Paul Granger turns to his daughter, his beautiful daughter, that he more or less lost on her eleventh birthday. She's radiant today, and he finds himself wishing for the girl with bushy hair that always had her nose in a book. But, of course, those days are gone. She'd fought in a war, and now she was marrying a wizard. He closes his eyes, and offered Hermione his arm.

He would make it down this aisle. He would walk down the aisle like a pro, and he would do it just right. He wouldn't look at his wife—who would be crying, no doubt. He wouldn't look at Ron, and he definitely wouldn't look at Hermione. Because if he looked at Hermione, he would see a woman he could barely recognize, not the little girl he remembers.

No, he would look at one of the seeds that were scattered around the grass, representing the beginning of Ron and Hermione's life together.

Because seeds don't turn eleven and go off to magical castles and learn how to charm feathers to fly and meet the Boy-Who-Lived, and another boy, a boy red hair and fall in love with the redhead and decide to marry him, because, after all, that's what two twenty-four-year-old's do when they love each other.

Seeds don't do that. Seeds read books, and eat chocolate chip pancakes, and put on their mom's high heels to try and be grown-up, and learn everything they can.

And you know what? As of this day, Paul Granger prefers _seeds_, not flowers.

* * *

Mrs. Weasley is sitting her chair at the very front, looking at her youngest son and listening to the wedding march. She's sitting on the groom's side, of course, but she feels like she could've sat on the bride's side and it would've been fine. Hermione's always been like a daughter to her, almost as much as Ginny.

Arthur is on one side of her, George on the other. As Hermione and her father begin the long walk from the back of the Burrow to the start of the garden and alter, George nudges his mother.

"Mum, look at Ginny," he says, and Molly does, to see her daughter touch her stomach fleetingly and grimace ever so slightly.

Mrs. Weasley frowns. "Do you think she has a stomach ache, dear?" She looks at George, then at Arthur, who's obviously listening to the conversation.

"No, it's just the baby—" George froze, his whole face going completely red, and he turned to look at his mother, who is frozen as well.

"Baby?" Arthur asks quietly, and Angelina, who's beside George, turns around. Audrey who is behind them, leans forward.

"Ginny's pregnant?" Audrey asks, looking quite curious. Percy, Bill, Fleur, and Charlie, who are beside her, instantly look at them, eyes wide.

"No," George says immediately, sneaking quick, frightened glances at his sister. "No, Ginny is _not_ pregnant, and _no one_ tell her or Harry I said anything—"

"Harry's the father?" Charlie asks, and Luna looks up from Charlie's other side.

"Of course Harry's the father," she says, looking quite confused on why any one would think otherwise.

George is more than a little aggravated by now. "There's no baby for Harry to be the father of," he insists. "Ginny is not pregnant!"

Throughout this whole argument, Hermione is getting closer and closer to the alter. Suddenly, when she's right by George, Molly, and Arthur, Mrs. Weasley cracks.

"GEORGE WEASLEY, TELL THE TRUTH! IS GINNY PREGNANT OR NOT?"

Everyone instantly turns to Mrs. Weasley, as well as George. Charlie and Bill are holding in laughs while George cowers under his mother's glare. Ginny and Harry both turn red, and Ginny glares at George, murder in her eyes.

Hermione stopped in her tracks at Mrs. Weasley's shout, and after a few seconds, she continues, hearing George squeak out a tiny, "Yes."

When she gets to Ron, everyone has recovered for the most part, although Ginny and Harry are looking at anything but the other, and George still looks scared—of Ginny or Mrs. Weasley, but it doesn't really matter which.

* * *

Around the time the minister was welcoming everyone, it began to drizzle. By the time they are saying their vows, it became a steady rain fall. And now, as the minister is asking Hermione if she takes this man as her lawfully wedded husband, it's pouring, the rain coming fast, but also pouring surprisingly gently.

Ron sighs as the minister looks at him. "Mr. Weasley," he says, "do you think we could move inside? The rain is distracting me, and this lovely lady's make-up is getting ruined."

Hermione's make-up is getting a little messed up, but she still looks beautiful. _There is absolutely no reason to move inside_, Ron thinks, and he says as much.

The minister sighs. "Alright, but—"

Ron cuts him off. "You know what? I think I can it from here." He looks at Hermione, annoyance at the minister and the weather in his eyes, but love in there, too. "Hermione, do you take me as your husband?"

"Yes," she says. "But, Ron—"

"Alright, then," Ron says. "I take you as my wife, Hermione. I love you."

The minister, looking as though he's just caught on, says, "You may now kiss the bride!"

_I don't need your permission_, Ron thinks, and then he sweeps Hermione up and kisses her, love and passion and lust and adoration all in that kiss.

She melts against him, and when he finally pulls away, everyone —_everyone_—is on their feet, stomping and clapping and hollering. Harry is roaring with laughter while Ginny beams, momentarily forgetting about her plan to kill George.

"I love you," Hermione says to him, the rain catching on her eyelashes looking like diamonds sparkling.

"I love you, too," he says back, and then he scoops her into his arms and marches down the aisle, shaking her father's hand and waving good-bye to Harry and Ginny.

* * *

A few hours later, as they're sitting in the car (Harry'd agreed to be the best man on one condition: the two had to go to their honeymoon in a car, and Ron had to drive), going down a quiet road, Ron looks at his newly wedded wife.

"Hermione, are you okay?" She's very quiet, just reading her book and doing a crossword puzzle.

"Of course," she says, looking a bit baffled. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," his voice is hesitant, "I just knew that it's one of your life long dreams to have an outdoor wedding, and the rain—"

She smiles at him. "Ron, today was the best day of my life. It was perfect. All thanks to you."

He grins, thinking about how wonderful it's going to be to be alone with her for three whole weeks. They're on their way to the mountains—snowy mountains, she told him, and they're both going to learn how to ski, although she's admitted that it's not her thing, really.

But after all, he'd rather be skiing than at an island, like Harry and Ginny, or at a country cottage, like Percy and Audrey. They'll learn together, and it'll be awkward and funny and _amazing_, because that's how everything is when he's with her: amazing.

It's quiet for a moment, then:

"Besides, you know what my other life long dream was?"

"What?"

"To be kissed in the rain."

Ron grins, and she grins back at him.

Then he looks thoughtful. "You know one of my dreams?"

"What?"

"To do it in a car."

"_Ron!_"

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**Please review if you read! It really means a lot to me.**


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